


A Belt for a Necklace

by suchadearie



Series: Trading for Touch [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchadearie/pseuds/suchadearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ripper's Birthday smut: cursed!Gold and Belle (story? what story? what plot?); Belle searches for a birthday present for her father, and Mr. Gold has just what she wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Belt for a Necklace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RipperBlackstaff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RipperBlackstaff/gifts).



It was one of those days when the mist crept in through that slit under the door and condensed in little pearls on the glass cases next to the door. Gold wouldn’t have minded that once in a while, but now, when fall changed to winter and the mist was a constant lurker outside his shop, the chill crept not only into the shop, but into his flesh, to sit there and gnaw at his bones. Sometimes he felt as if he were several hundred years old, not only fifty two. On days like that, he was glad when he had no pesky business, no customers and no debtors.

This was not one of the days without business, and he almost snarled at the girl that walked in and brought swirls of mist with her. Well, technically, she wasn’t a girl anymore, but everything below forty ranged as girl in his books.

“Hi, Mr. Gold.” Always sunshine and roses, the French girl. She didn’t come often, not more than anyone, but other than most of his customers (who brought with them a mixture of shame at needing a pawnbroker and rage at having to accept his help), she didn’t seem to take his job as a personal insult.

“How can I help you, Miss French?” She might be sunshine and roses, but he wanted her gone as soon as possible nevertheless.

“I’m looking for a present for my dad…it’s his birthday.”

“Ah, I see…and the liquor store was already closed?” That wiped the smile from her face, but she squared her shoulders and plastered it back on, oh so very brave, and determined to ignore his rudeness. How sweet.

“You know that insulting your customers is no way to make business, right?” She strolled along the glass cases and peeked inside, and Gold watched with narrowed eyes as she trailed her fingertips along the wooden edge of one of the cases.

“And you learned that where? Flower-shop 101?”

She stopped and turned, watching him with a frown that started to tickle the bone-deep chill in his limbs away. “No, Mr. Gold. That’s just common sense. I would’ve expected you to have a little more of that.”

He hissed a little, making her jump, but if he was honest, he almost enjoyed bantering with her. “Well, tell me then, what would please your father? An instrument? A figurine? All items in the shop are for sale.” The amusement of imagining a delicate little porcelain figurine in Moe French’s paws drew a thin smirk on his face, but Miss French either chose to ignore it, or didn’t see it. She looked around, a little helpless and overwhelmed, and he relished that look on her face, because it betrayed that she, too, had weaknesses.

“I have no idea, actually…maybe you could show me around?” She took off her coat, placing it over her forearm, and cocked her head, smiling that smile again, and Gold stepped around the counter, almost against his will, and thumping his cane to the floor with more vigor than necessary. The moment he left the safe walls of his counter behind, her eyes lit up, and she looked at him as if he just presented her with an enchanted rose. It was disconcerting, even more so because her gaze was directed at his midriff, not at all at his face. Maybe his suit was less than impeccable…But when he looked down his front, there was nothing out of place.

“That would be a perfect present!” She came towards him with two quick strides, and Gold flinched and stumbled a little backwards, finding himself pressed with his back to the counter. She halted and watched him, her nose crinkled and her head tilted, a little like a dove would stare at a crumb to determine if it was edible. That made him realize how embarrassing he acted, and he cleared his throat and straightened, smoothing the front of his suit.

“Found something you like, dear?”

“Yeah…” She licked her lip, and he found himself staring at the pink tip of her tongue. _Be professional_ , he reminded himself. It didn’t mean she meant him, even though she was staring at him as if she was contemplating to eat him.

“I like your belt. I’m sure my dad would like it, too.”

Well, that cleared things up. “ _All items in the shop_ includes neither my clothing nor me, dear.”

“Why would I want to buy you?”

For maybe three seconds, he was transfixed by the curiosity in her eyes, and each and every answer coming to his mind was anything but appropriate, but he swallowed it all down, and instead fashioned his lips into a smile. He hoped that it was a polite and noncommittal one, but the grin on her face told him that she saw right through him. He stopped breathing when she stepped closer and hooked her index finger into his belt. She rubbed in small circles over the little patch of leather inside the buckle, and Gold was sure that he somehow was connected to his belt and felt her touch on his own skin, rippling through him from head to toe.

“Miss French”, he rasped out, hoping that somehow his tone would convey his meaning, even though he was not completely sure if he wanted her to stop touching him – well, his belt – or touch him more. Maybe both. She looked up from his belt – which was about time, because her look alone felt like a caress – and smiled again.

“This leather feels really exquisite. Are you sure you don’t want to sell it?”

Gold plucked her hand from his waist, noticing how smooth her skin felt in his grip, and tried to look intimidating enough to keep her from touching him again.

“I’m absolutely positive that I won’t sell my clothing to you. Besides, this belt has cost a fortune. I doubt that you're able to afford it.”

She sighed, and for a moment he believed he had managed to deter her. She glanced over the items in his shop and sighed again, heaving her chest heavily and looking so downtrodden that he was almost sorry.

“If nothing here is after your liking, maybe I have something in the back…I have a nice clock there, if you want to take a look at it?”

When her face lit up again, he wondered if it was a good idea to take her to the back room, but it was already too late. Miss French didn’t wait for him to lead the way, and Gold wondered if she was taking the lead in everything. But he chased that thought away before it could take root in his mind and fester with ugly notions that resulted in lonely nights spent awake and yearning for touch.

She let out an excited squeak when she entered the back room, halting abruptly, and Gold almost bumped into her when he stepped in after her. He tried to act natural, tried to make it look as if he was brushing away dust from her shoulder when he had to grasp her to prevent himself from stumbling and falling. She felt warm in his grip, and he didn’t let go at once when he had his balance back.

“Are you ok?” she asked, and he pulled back his hand.

“Yes, dear. I’m sorry, there was…a spider.” It sounded lame, and she didn’t look like the kind of woman who was afraid of anything, least of all spiders, but she paled and shivered and nearly jumped him, causing him to stumble backwards again.

“Is it gone? Please tell me it’s gone!” She was clawing at his blazer, and talking to his throat, and Gold had difficulties to keep himself from burying his nose in her curls and just breathe her in. But he was unable to keep himself from wrapping his arm around her.

“It’s gone”, he said, after what seemed to last an eternity, and never before had it been so difficult to let go. He wished for a whole armada of spiders to land on her, so he could brush them off (from every part of her), and protect her. He cleared his throat, and she stepped back.

“So, what made you squeak?” he asked, trying to sound as if he was not suffocating.

“I don’t squeak. I’m not a guinea pig.”

“Well, you sounded like one.”

“Manners, Mr. Gold. You forgot again.”

He creased his nose and wanted to shoot a nasty remark about proper behavior facing a spider attack at her, but it got stuck in his throat when she spotted something on a shelf behind his back and hopped around him like one of those ghost lights.

“A pocket watch! This is gorgeous…”

He rolled his eyes while she couldn’t see it, to avoid another remark about manners (and really, she had no idea how much he was restraining himself not to resort to insults). When he turned around and saw her trailing her fingertips over the intricate etchings of _his_ pocket watch, it shot right into his guts, as if she was, again, touching him. “Gorgeous”, he said, stepping to her and taking the watch out of her hand, “and not for sale.” He let the watch slip into his waistcoat, where it belonged, while she scrunched up her face into something that was either chiding or the most ridiculously adorable face he’d ever seen.

“Mr. Gold, how do you make any profit at all when not one item in your shop is for sale?”

“It’s not my fault that you’re picking all the wrong objects, Miss French.”

“It’s not my fault that I obviously have great taste.”

“That…” He stood there, gaping, and without a clue what to retort. What a pitiful impression he must make. She giggled then, and he was ready to throw her out.

“We could always trade…Like, you give me that belt and I…I don’t know, is there something you could want from me?” She sounded a little breathless, and Gold wondered if she really just had suggested what he thought she had suggested. He hoped not.

“Miss French, has no one warned you not to make deals with me? They come at a cost, you know?”

“Of course I know. Fine, no trading. I just get my dad his liquor then.” She started for the curtain that divided the back from the front of his shop, with hanging shoulders, and she had sounded so sad that Gold felt almost bad. No, not almost. He did feel bad.

“Miss French.”

She halted and looked back over her shoulder, but it was a wary look.

“Maybe there is something. The necklace you’re wearing…”

Her hand flew up to the little pearl on a thin golden chain around her neck. It was a worthless piece of jewelry, the pearl almost certainly fake, but maybe she didn’t know that.

“This necklace means a lot to me…” she said, quiet and breathless, but instead of making him soft, pliable, it increased the sudden wish to possess the necklace. He wanted to take it from her, and he didn’t care if he had to give her one of his best belts for that.

“As does my belt to me. Deal or no deal, dear?”

She nodded, quick, as if she was afraid she would change her mind if she waited for too long, but she winced when he leaned his cane to his working table and stepped behind her to brush her hair from her neck.

“Let me take it off”, he rasped, and she inhaled deeply and held her breath when his fingertips touched her skin and trailed along the thin chain to find the closure. He imagined to feel her tremble, and it made his fingertips prickle with the desire to stroke upwards, along her neck, to rake through her hair…He found the closure and opened it, and when he took away the necklace, it was a mocking reversal of how it was supposed to be: Someone should give her jewelry, put it gently around her throat, place a pearl just beneath that hollow between her collarbones and close the necklace with loving hands, and mark her with it, claim her, make her his…The necklace burnt in his grip, and he felt almost dirty for taking it from her when he let it slide into the same pocket of his vest that held the pocket watch.

She turned around when he stepped back, and there was something raw and hurt in her eyes.

“My turn”, she said, and before he knew what she meant with that, her hands were on his belt and pulled it open. The leather hissed softly when she pulled the belt out of the loops of his pants, and the sound of it was obscene. He was glad that she took the belt from him, even though he was almost unable to breathe, because taking off the leather in front of her would have been even more obscene. Still, while he stood motionless and looked down at her, at the rosy glow on her cheeks and her bottom lip sucked in between her teeth, he could feel himself getting hard, and he swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t notice it. But when she had the belt, she didn’t step back immediately, didn’t give him room to breathe again. Instead, she stared at the knot of his tie, his throat, never quite meeting his eyes, and her nostrils flared when she inhaled, as if she was breathing him in. Gold prayed she would step back, prayed she wouldn’t come closer, because there was no way in hell she could not notice what her closeness did to him if she came any nearer…And then she did, stepped forward and pressed herself flush against him, slipping one hand around his neck and cupping him through his pants with the other one. The shock made him almost spill himself then and there, and a strained sound escaped his throat.

“Miss French…what…”

“Hush. That necklace means really a lot to me. And judging by the way you feel down there, you enjoyed taking it from me. So now I’m gonna take something from you.” She gave him a gentle squeeze, making him almost jump, before she let go of him and placed his belt around the nape of his neck to pull him closer, down, until his lips were in her reach and she could capture them in a kiss. Gold had no idea what possessed her, but he didn’t resist. Had no strength left to resist, in fact, and when her soft lips parted on his and he felt her tongue on his lips, warm and wet, he let her in, let her kiss him in any way she wanted. The first few strokes of her tongue were clumsy and awkward, so innocent, but so delicious that he lifted his hands, cradled her face to bring her closer and feel her from head to toe. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been this close to him, and it made him tingle all over, made his skin prickle and his erection strain with the want – the need, really – for more. She let go of the belt around his neck and started to open the fly of his pants, but never stopped kissing him. He was not sure if he was allowed to touch her, to return her caresses, but when she wriggled her hand inside his pants and his boxers and closed it around his cock, giving him another gentle squeeze, he groaned, and for the life of him, he couldn’t stop himself from touching her, from placing his palms on top of her breasts over her blouse, couldn’t keep himself from rubbing gently over their tips to feel them puckering inside the cage of her bra.

She tore away from his lips then, and he had never seen something more beautiful than her swollen lips and her heavy lidded eyes with dilated pupils, never seen something more delicious than the rose colored blush on her skin.

“What exactly are you doing?” he asked when she pumped up and down his erection and brought him close to completely losing control. He would come into her hand if she didn’t stop soon.

“Stop talking, Gold. I want to see you vulnerable and trembling in my hand, and I want you to beg for me to take you…Got it?” She got up on tiptoes again and licked over his lips, and he nodded, helplessly thrusting his hips forward. If he had known that she was this fierce…He lost the thought when she got down on her knees before him and unwrapped him like a present, freed him from his clothes and exposed him to her gaze. He almost pushed her away then, feeling shame and insecurity gnaw at him and cover his skin with a burning blush, but she looked up at him with that angelic smile, just as joyful as the look on her face had been when she had spotted the pocket watch on the shelf. And he forgot every thought of prudency when she licked over the tip of his cock, licked away the tiny drop of his seed that had formed there already, and closed her lips around him to suck him into her mouth.

“Goodness…” He nearly choked, needed something to hold on to, desperately, because the hot wetness of her mouth brought him almost down to his knees. She let go of him with a wet plopping sound and smiled up at him, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. He raked through her hair, felt the silken curls slide over his skin, and it made him thrust his hips into the empty air. He knew what she wanted, and God knew, he would give it to her.

“Please”, he rasped, his voice almost too hoarse to speak, “Please, take me…”

Gold half expected her to get up then, wipe her lips and leave him like that, grinning and smug to have brought him so low, but she did nothing of the sort. Instead, she got up and gestured to the cot in the corner of the back room.

“Lie down there”, she said, and started to take of her shoes and her woolen tights. It might be cold and nearly winter, but hell would freeze over before Miss French gave up wearing her short skirts. But he was the last person to complain about that. He limped to the cot, holding up his pants, not planning on stumbling and falling to the floor because his pants wrapped themselves around his ankles, and she was already at his side and pushed him down when he reached the thing. She mounted him, but instead of guiding him inside, she took his hand and guided it between her legs. She was still wearing her skirt, and he couldn’t see her, but oh, he felt her.

“Feel that, Gold?” she asked, and he nodded, dipping his fingertips into that wetness, between those slick folds, and she groaned and rolled her hips forward when he found that pearl between her folds and stroked it with wetted fingers. She gasped when he pinched her, gently, and held her clit until she thrust her head back and moaned. His own hips bucked when she grabbed his shaft to guide him finally inside, and he grasped her hips and held her still. He couldn’t remember when he ever felt so complete, so brimming with life, so close to reaching something that was always at the back of his mind but never quite within reach. He reached up, cupped her cheek to make her look at him, but she turned her face away, into his palm, and sucked his fingers into her mouth, licking her own juices from his skin. It was this that pushed him over the edge, and he came, spilled himself inside her with only a few hard thrusts upwards. And he felt the stars, felt light wrapping him in, felt something for a moment that was almost like hundreds of years of despair lifted from him, but then it swashed away again, and he didn’t know if it was just his climax or if he had, for a very short moment, touched something behind that wall of fog that enclosed his life.

She climbed down from his lap, smoothing out her blouse and her skirts, and for a moment both of them stared down at her naked feet. She wriggled her toes with the cold, and he was not sure if he wanted to wrap her in a blanket or have her gone as fast as possible, so that he could pretend that nothing ever happened.

“I’m sorry”, he murmured, but she shrugged and started to dress again.

“What for? I got what I wanted. There’s nothing you need to be sorry about.” She slipped back into her shoes without looking at him, and he felt ridiculous as he pulled his pants back up and closed them. She found the belt on the floor and wrapped it around her hand, and Gold found himself already yearning for her touch again.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Gold”, she said, still not looking at him, and “Have a nice day, Miss French”, he answered, just before she slipped out through the curtain. He heard the ring of his little bell when she left, and again he felt as if he was scratching at something big lurking just out of reach. But then he shrugged it off. The biggest question was what moved innocent little Miss French, shop assistant in her father’s flower shop, to behave like that. With him, the man who owned this town and was hated by everyone.   


End file.
